


friction burns and a black satin finish

by Amaranth (Ladyboo)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Bottom Sam, Crying, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Overstimulation, Rimming, Sex on a Car, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyboo/pseuds/Amaranth
Summary: He knew better and yet his fingers scrambled still. He knew better, and yet his bare feet tried to find purchase on the cool floor, long legs spread wide and his body tilted, tipped forward. He had been here before, he had been given just shy of enough and he wanted scream for all that he couldn’t catch his breath.





	friction burns and a black satin finish

**Author's Note:**

> Those who are at fault for this know exactly who they are.  
> Unedited, I just finished and posted so I can go to bed, have at.

It was quiet in the garage, as quiet as it ever was when his brother hadn’t taken it to wash his car, to wash one of the other cars. No engines purring, no wheels squealing, there was nothing but quiet, there was the just warm enough in the air that always came when the doors hadn’t been open, when the air had been left to filter and settle. 

It was familiar here, comfortable.

Chest pressed to the hood, his arms were held wide. A faint strain to his shoulders, a slight pull to the muscle there, the joint, and he had turned his head to the side so he could see. A cheek pressed to the cool metal, his hair had been taken from his face, had been pulled back into a sloppy knot at the back of his head by loving hands. A gentle touch, calloused fingertips that had stroked against his cheeks, his temples, the snap of an elastic when his hair was secured. 

Time had passed since then. 

Bare chested, the hood had been cool against his front when he had been laid upon it. Crisp, chilled metal and he had flinched, had tried to lift himself only to be stopped by the hand on the center of his back, at the touch between his shoulder blades. That hand had eased him back down, that touch had pressed him back into the metal and Sam’s skin had broken into goosebumps, a faint tremble across him. His nipples had pebbled despite the way the hood had slowly warmed from the heat of his own body, and he had been told to spread his arms. 

So he had, and he had felt the way that the ropes had looped around his wrists, the way his arms had been pulled almost too tight. Sam had done as he was told though, had smiled at the quiet, dry quip about how he looked like this, a shy smile to match the way he had turned his face into the hood of the car. Exposed without his hair to hide behind, given no chance but to listen and his weight had dropped when his feet were kicked apart. 

Rougher than he had expected, a harsher motion than he had been prepared for and his body had fallen hard. 

The car had rocked, the breath had been knocked out of him, and there had been a chuckle. His cock had slapped against the front of the hood where it curled, where it met the midway between the hood and the grill and he had been unable to do anything other than moan at the feeling. Cold, smooth metal against his front and hands at his feet, ropes around his ankles and nails that had scraped paths up his bare calves, his thighs. 

A trembling had taken his skin that hadn’t yet ceased and a mouth he knew intimately had pressed kisses to the insides of his thighs, the crease where they met the swell of his ass. Wet, dragging, biting with a bare hint of teeth and a tongue had gotten distracted, had trailed between his cheeks and rasped against the tender of his hole. 

He had cried out then, but he had been reduced to little more than whimpering now, guttural sounds punched out of him with every snapping thrust of those hips. The ropes securing his feet served as the only things that kept him from being shoved up the hood, bound from his ankles to the front driveshaft on either side, wrapped around the wheels until they could secure around from the outside. Hands on his hips, sharp pressure points that dug into his skin, that held at the sharp of the crest of his hips and used that hold to pull him back as best as his bound position would allow. 

Every thrust smeared his cockhead against the impala’s hood and the tight press of metal against his chest kept him from really catching his breath. 

“You’re trying so hard to be good for me, aren’t you, Samuel?”

Castiel ground against him, a harsh roll of his hips and Sam’s breath caught, his eyes rolled. A deep, whining moan came from his chest and he struggled to thrust back, to chase the feeling. The fat head of Castiel’s cock skated against his prostate, dragged across the plump, abused cluster of nerves and his own cock twitched, leaked another line of precum across the sleek, satin finish paint. 

“Samuel.” Exasperation, just fond enough and just commanding enough and his body tried to arch. He had been conditioned for that tone, had heard it breathed against his ear or felt it against the tremble of his inner thighs so many times that the sound alone made his stomach draw up tight. Another pulse of his cock and Sam moaned, pressed his face into the hood again. “What have I said about dirtying things that aren’t yours?”

One hand tightened, kept him pressed to the hood with a strong grip even as Castiel tipped his hips back, even as he moved so just the head remained. The wide swell of it pulled at his rim, stretched and pulled until it was the only thing that remained and he wanted to press back. Wanted to fuck himself on that cock, knew how to roll his hips and how to shift his weight, the perfect sort of pressure it would take for Cas to slide in deep, for Sam to feel the smack of their skin together. 

“Castiel,  _ please _ .”

A chuckle, laughter from somewhere above him and the snapping retort he wanted to give was lost on his tongue. Because Castiel pulled further instead, moved from him enough that the tip of his cock kissed against Sam’s swollen rim. Puffy and pink, slick from both Cas’s tongue and the slow seep of his grace and Sam felt a burning behind his eyes. A low sound in his throat, strangled and just shy of outraged, of pleading. 

It turned into a scream, echoed on the walls around them and rattled against the hood. It matched the harsh smack of Castiel’s thighs against his ass, the echoing slap of his cockhead against the impala’s hood. His fingertips tried to find grip against the metal, tried to pull so he could hoist himself up for a better angle but the ropes held him fast, but Castiel’s single hand on his hip held him in place. Castiel kept him flat chested against the car with rope and a single hand at his hip, thumb spread just enough that Castiel could pull at his skin, that he could expose the cock split pink of Sam’s hole. 

He was going to come like this, he was going to shiver out of his skin like this, he could still feel the sticky slide of come against his abdomen from where Castiel had spent time on his knees. Come trapped between his flesh and the black satin finish of the hood from where Castiel had pulled him open with both hands and fucked him with his tongue, nipped at his rim and rasped the grit of his stubble against his tender, sensitive skin. 

He had come once like that, twice, he hadn’t stopped shaking before Cas had fucked into him, before he’d pinned tight against the hood with his weight and fucked him the rest of the way open with his cock. 

Tears now, those were tears on his face, sticking to his lashes and slipping to pool against the skin warmed metal he had been splayed upon. His petered off scream just spiraled into another as Cas pressed close, as Castiel pulled at his hips until the fat of his cock sent a sharp, candied sweet fire across Sam’s prostate, an Angel of the Lord fucked him to the sounds of his own screams hard enough that the impala rocked, her tires threatened to roll. 

A hard crack, the echoing sound of a hand smacking across his ass and pain bloomed there, knife edge sharp and velvet decadent and the moan that dripped from his lips felt dirty. He must have sounded like a whore, must have looked like a slut, and there was another crack of pain to be rewarded by another moan from his lips, another jerk of his cock where it dribbled precum still. He didn’t know which would be dirtier by the end of this, the car or himself but Sam wanted to beg all the same, he wanted to plead. He knew Castiel’s body, knew the way that he moved, knew the angel could fuck him harder if he could just ask, if he could just find the words. 

“You do not beg me.”

There was that free hand then, there was the hand that had struck him. It knotted in his hair and pulled, lifted his body as best as the ropes would allow. Castiel always got what he wanted though, one way or another, and Sam’s shoulders strained and he moaned at the feeling, as his face was angled forward to the windshield. Another rough thrust, and his cry was given there where it crawled from his straining throat. 

“You know better than that. Who do you beg?”

He knew better and yet his fingers scrambled still. He knew better, and yet his bare feet tried to find purchase on the cool floor, long legs spread wide and his body tilted, tipped forward. He had been here before, he had been given just shy of enough and he wanted scream for all that he couldn’t catch his breath. Instead, he cried, body pressed up and pounded by the push of Cas’s cock, by the five point firebrand bruises that the angel seared into his skin. Instead he moaned, he sobbed, unable to do more than take it as the other fucked him so hard he could barely breathe. 

“ _ Dean! _ ”

Heavy lidded, thick lashed, his brother watched him with murky eyes from where he had reclined on the hood. Boots planted on the paint, knees spread, he’d pulled his cock free from the denim he wore. Sam could smell the arousal sticky musk of him, or maybe that was himself, but his mouth watered all the same. He drooled then, saliva across his lips where his mouth had started to go slack, where his body had started to go limp.

That was Dean’s hand, long, wide fingers with callouses that he knew the feel of, stripping his cock at an almost lazy pace.    
Sam knew that smile and he sobbed. 

“Having fun, Sammy?”

A strangled sound and he watched as Dean’s smile grew a little wider, turned wicked at the edges. He knew how it tasted when it looked like that, knew Dean’s hands in his hair like he had felt them since he was sixteen and convinced his brother he was old enough. But Dean was out of reach, but Dean was too far away and Cas had listened well, had bound him just like he’d been told and God but he hadn’t thought ahead when he’d agreed to this. 

“De-Dean, ple-”

“Harder.”

A grunt from behind him and Cas released his hair, let go of his head and instead took his skin, a hold on his ass that mirrors the other hand. Spread him open until surely Cas could see the abused, fucked plump of his rim, Sam didn’t have time to breathe. He stared at Dean with wide eyes, watched his brother and the way that he grinned before his vision hazed over for a minute. 

Too much, too much, he screamed then, a wailing, echoing sound and his forehead dropped to the hood. His back tried to arch, his body tried to bow, whether away from the sensation or towards it Sam could never tell. Castiel didn’t seem to care, fucked into him so hard he felt like he might come apart, friction burns at his ankles where the ropes were the only things keeping him from being stuttered up the hood. Castiel listened, Castiel did as he was told and he wanted to watch their mouths smear together, wanted to gag himself on his brothers cock while they kissed over his head, but he couldn’t even catch his breath enough to say a name. 

He wanted to touch, he wanted to, he wanted-

A heave, as harsh a pull as he could manage and there was an unfamiliar sound in the air, a sudden lack of tension on his left arm as the rope snapped. As it fell slack, as a fourth of the hold they had on him was lost and Sam surged up then. He nearly got an arm under himself then, nearly pulled himself up, he could hear his brother laughing. Teeth bared for all that he panted, for all that he cried, and Sam caught a glimpse of his brothers face then.

The way his head had tipped, the way Dean had leaned forward, fist still wrapped around the thick of his cock and his thumb smearing across the head, he was beautiful, just as beautiful now as he had been when he was twenty. He knew that smile and he didn’t know whether he wanted to taste it or bit it. There was something devilish in Dean’s eyes though and he got the chance for neither. Castiel’s hand caught his wrist, pulled his support from him until he crashed down on the hood with enough force that the entire car rattled. 

Cas secured his arm behind his back, grip tight to his forearm and the world turned silver edged sharp, hazy and whited out as Sam screamed, as he came. 

Hazy, underwater thick and bubbling, he could hear Dean laughing still. He could feel a hand on his face, he could feel Cas fucking him still but everything was muted momentarily, the temporary cotton soft high that came post orgasm. He shook still when he came down, he trembled so hard his teeth chattered and yet he hadn’t stopped crying. He had started to whine at some point, wavering, reedy sounds, high pitched and soft. 

The slapping of Castiel’s thighs against his ass didn’t feel quite so harsh now, there wasn’t such power behind his thrusts now. Sam still couldn’t breathe though, not really, the force of the way he had snapped his hips turned into a deep, rolling grind instead that pressed firm drags against the oversensitive pulse of his prostate. Overwhelmed, body still thrumming from his third orgasm, there was no fight in him then. That touch to his face and Dean lifted his head, Dean ran a thumb across his lower lip, the seam of his mouth. 

His big brother watched him with dark, murky eyes and he could feel the hands of an angel digging bruises into his hips. 

“Sammy, Sammy, such a pretty baby for us, aren’t you?”

Dean’s touch was tender for all that his eyes were dark, for all that he had that set to his brows that made something in Sam’s abdomen pull tight and hot. He moaned all the same, heavy lidded eyes and a slack mouth, flushed skin and a few pieces of hair having fallen from the bun Cas had pulled it back into. His brother had moved forward, had closed the distance between them until his spread thighs bracketed Sam’s shoulders, he had hooked a leg over the arm still bound tight. 

He followed where his brother led, tipped his head where Dean wanted even though he could hardly see, even though he could hardly breathe. 

“You’re doing perfect baby, such a good boy.” That thumb pulled at his already slack lip, Dean gave pressure where he needed little. Cas angled his hips then, changed the way that his cock sat and it wasn’t the head then against his prostate in passes, the entire shaft heavy and unrelenting against throbbing nerves. “I’m so proud of you, lets see you go again for big brother.”

A whine, long and small and Dean smiled at him, something sticky and shadowed and Sam felt his body start to go numb. 

“Open up, suck.”

Dean fitted his cock easy against the loose of Sam’s mouth, cradled by the soft plush of his tongue and the burning heat there. His brother groaned, he could hear it if only just barely and Dean curled a gentle hand into his hair, kept him steady until his cockhead slipped past the tight muscle of his throat and his jaw went slack. Castiel held him still, spread wide and raw, friction red from where he’d been here so long he’d lost time, smeared his abdomen through the messes he had made. 

“Good boy, Sammy.”

And Sam floated then to the rumble of Dean’s voice and the ozone thunder rattle of Castiel’s quiet laughter. 


End file.
